Running out of Room

I just came in from the back yard and I'm rather dirty. I hate digging. It's hot here, even at night, which doesn't make the digging easy. Sweat and dirt make mud, which means I'm a mess.

I had just gotten to right about the depth I wanted when I realized there was a little bit of the Jehovah's Witness I buried last week sticking out into my freshly dug hole. I really had to stop and ask myself if it was rude to bury two people that close together.

It was too hot though. Maybe if it had been a few degrees under 90 I might have taken the time. Hell, I figure the two of them can spend eternity as ghosts buried under the dirt, the Jehovah's Witness trying to convince the salesman he could someday rule the world if only he would have family game night, and convice his daughters to wear special underwear, and the salesman convincing the Jehovah's Witness that he too could be rich if he would only join Amway.

I'm not sure what I want to wash off of me more: the mud, the blood, or the damn stink of Amway products.